She's All the World to Me Part 12

"Good-morning, Bridget," said Mona, cheerfully.

"Good-mornin'," answered Bridget, morosely. "It's middlin' cowld, isn't it, missis, for you and that poor babby to be walkin' up there?"

"It's a sharp morning, but we're strong and well, Ruby and I," said Mona, going on.

"The craythur!" mumbled Bridget to herself when they were gone, "it's not lookin' like it she is anyway, with a face as white as a hadd.i.c.k."

Mona and the little one walked briskly along the path, which from Kisseck's cottage was nearly level, and cut across the Head toward the south. There was a second path a few yards below them, and between these two, at a distance of some five or six hundred yards from the house, was the open shaft of an old disused lead mine which has since been filled up.

"What a dreadful pit," said Ruby, clinging to Mona's skirts in the wind.

They continued their walk until they came to a steep path that led down to a little bay. Then they paused, and looked back, around, and beneath.

Overhead were the drifting black clouds, heavy, wide, and low. Behind was the Horse Hill, purple to the summit with gorse. To the north was the Castle Island, with its Fennella's Tower against the sky, and the black rocks, fringed at the water's edge with white spray. Beneath was the narrow covelet cleft out of the hillside, and apparently accessible only from the sea. In front was the ocean, whose moan came up to them mingled with the shrill cry of the long-necked birds that labored midway in the burdened air.

"What is the name of that pretty bay?" asked the child. "Poolvash,"

answered Mona.

"And what does it mean?" asked the little one.

"The Bay of Death," said Mona; "that's what they used to call it long ago, but they call it the Lockjaw now."

"And what does that mean?" asked Ruby again, with a child's tireless curiosity.

"It means, I suppose, that the tide comes up into it, and then no one can get either in or out."

"Oh, what a pity! Look at the lovely sh.e.l.ls in the shingle," said Ruby.

Just then a step was heard on the path below, and in a moment Bill Kisseck came up beside them. He looked suspiciously at Mona and pa.s.sed without a word.

"That gel of Kinvig's is sniffin' round," he said to his wife when he reached home. "She wouldn't be partikler what she'd do if she got a peep and a skute into anything."

"Didn't you say no one could get up or down the Lockjaw when the tide is up?" asked Ruby as she tripped home at Mona's side.

"Yes," said Mona, "except from the sea."

"And isn't the tide up now?" said Ruby. Mona did not answer.

That night the storm that Danny had predicted from the aspect of the "cat's tail" and the "skate" broke over Peel with terrific violence.

When morning dawned it was found that barns had been unroofed and that luggers in the harbor had been torn from their moorings. The worst damage done was to the old wooden pier and the little wooden lighthouse.

These had been torn entirely away, and nothing remained but the huge stone foundations which were visible now at the bottom of the ebb tide.

The morning was clear and fine, the wind had dropped, and only the swelling billows in the bay and the timbers floating on every side remained to tell of last night's tempest.

Little Ruby was early stirring, and before Mona and her mother were awake she ran down the hill toward Peel. An hour pa.s.sed and the little one had not returned. Two hours went by, and Mona could see no sign of the child from the corner of the road. Then she became anxious, and went in search of her.

"Gerr out of this and take the boat round to the Lockjaw, d'ye hear?"

shouted Bill Kisseck, "and see if any harm's been done down there. Take a rope or two and that tarpaulin and cover up anything that's wet."

Danny lifted the tarpaulin, and went quietly out of the house.

"I'll never make nothin' of that lad," said Kisseck; "he hasn't a word to chuck at a dog."

Danny walked down to the harbor, threw the tarpaulin and two ropes into the boat, got into it himself, took the oar, and began to scull toward the sea. As he pa.s.sed the ruined end of the pier a voice hailed him. He looked up. It was Christian Mylrea.

"If you are going round the Head I'd like to go with you," said Christian. "I want to see what mischief the sea has done to the west wall of the castle. Five years ago a storm like this swept away ten yards of it at least."

Danny touched his cap and pulled up to the pier. Christian dropped, hand-under-hand, down a fixed wooden ladder, and into the boat. Then they sculled away. When they reached the west of the island, and had with difficulty brought-to against the rocks, Christian landed, and found the old boundary wall overlooking the traditional Giant's Grave torn down to the depth of several feet. His interest was so strongly aroused that he would have stayed longer than Danny's business allowed.

"Leave me here and call as you return," he said, and then, with characteristic irresolution, he added, "No, take me with you."

The morning was fine but cold, and to keep up a comfortable warmth Christian took an oar, and they rowed.

"This pestilential hole, I hate it," said Christian, as they swept into the Lockjaw. "How high the tide is here," he added, in another tone.

They ran the boat up the shingle and jumped ash.o.r.e. As they did so their ears became sensible of a feeble moan. Turning about they saw something lying on the stones. It was a child. Christian ran to it and picked it up. It was little Ruby. She was cold and apparently insensible.

Christian's face was livid, and his eyes seemed to start from his head.

"Merciful G.o.d," he cried, "what can have happened?"

Then a torrent of emotion came over him, and, bending on one knee, with the child in his arms, the tears coursed down his cheeks. He hugged the little one to his breast to warm it; he chafed its little hands and kissed its pale lips, and cried, "Ruby, Ruby, my darling, my darling!"

Danny stood by with amazement written on his face. Rising to his feet, Christian bore his burden to the boat, and called on Danny to push off and away. The lad did so without a word. He felt as if something was choking him, and he could not speak. Christian stripped off his coat and wrapped it about the child. Presently the little one's eyes opened, and she whispered, "How cold!" and cried piteously. When the tears had ceased to flow, but still stood in big drops on the little face, Ruby looked up at Christian and then toward Danny, where he sculled at the stern.

"She wants to go to you," said Christian, after a pause, and with a great gulp in his throat. Danny dropped the oar and lifted the child very tenderly in his big h.o.r.n.y hands. "Ruby ven, Ruby ven," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely, and the little one put her arms about his neck and drew down his head to kiss him.

Christian turned his own head aside in agony. "Mercy, mercy, have mercy!" he cried, with his eyes toward the sky. "What have I lost! What love have I lost!"

He took the oars, and with head bent he pulled in silence toward the town. When they got there he took the little one again in his arms and carried her to the cottage on the "brew." Mona had newly returned from a fruitless search. She and her mother stood together with anxious faces as Christian, bearing the child, entered the cottage and stopped in the middle of the floor. Danny Fayle was behind him. There was a moment's silence. At length Christian said, huskily, "We found her in the Poolvash, cut off by the tide."

No one spoke. Mona took Ruby out of his arms and sat with her before the fire. Christian stepped to the back of the chair and looked down into the child's eyes, now wet with fresh tears. Mrs. Cregeen gazed into his face. Not a word was said to him. He took up his coat, turned aside, paused for an instant at the door, and then walked away.

CHAPTER XI

THE SHOCKIN' POWERFUL SKAME

"I've two mamas, haven't I?" cried Ruby, between her sobs, as Mona warmed her cold limbs and kissed her.

Danny had sat on the settle and looked on with wondering eyes. He glanced from Mona's face to Ruby's, and from Ruby's back to Mona's. Some vague and startling idea was struggling its way into his sluggish mind.

The child was warm and well in a little while, and turning to Danny, Mona said, "Is it all settled that you told me of?"

"Yes," answered the lad.

"Is it to be to-day?"

"Ay; they're to go out at high-water with the line for cod, and not come back till it's time to do it."